


(don't ask me) to follow where you lead

by evlytheevilqueen



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Creature Jaskier | Dandelion, Fae!Jaskier, Geralt is trying to have feelings here Jaskier, M/M, POV Jaskier | Dandelion, as in it starts post-mountain and the damage done will eventually be worked on, let him use his words, this may turn out to be the slowest post-mountain fix it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:13:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23881363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evlytheevilqueen/pseuds/evlytheevilqueen
Summary: Bitter irony that Jaskier had fallen for him despite knowing that his freedom was linked to Geralt wanting him gone deep down more than he wanted him to stay – if Jaskier ever got what his heart yearned for, he'd lose even more than Geralt's affections in the same breath.In that sense, Geralt's words on top of that mountain were a blessing, for all that Jaskier did not at all agree with being blamed for things that were in no way his fault. For someone who had held someone else's fate in his hands for almost all of the years he had walked this earth, Geralt was surprisingly scared of destiny and way too concerned with running from it in vain.Jaskier could and actually had sung several songs about how escaping destiny was impossible – her cruel claws would sink into you one way or another, running from it was nothing but a waste of breath.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 9
Kudos: 68





	(don't ask me) to follow where you lead

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is heavily inspired by this song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E52rxz2sjRs  
> In fact, this song will be both a recurring theme and the lyrics will show up later in the story, so I would definitely recommend listening to it. (also I may or may not have listened to this version on repeat while writing this so it very much sets the mood as well)  
> You'll be just fine if you don't, though!

With a sigh, Jaskier brushed along Roach's coat once more, not bothering to gently shove her away from where she was merrily mouthing his hair. It was probably foolishness to stay anywhere near, to wait by Roach's side for Geralt's return. For many a reason, not least of all the scene of his last conversation with Geralt – if you wanted to call it a conversation. It was a rather generous descriptor, since it was mostly one-sided shouting on Geralt's part moreso than an actual exchange.

Too bad that the fact that he was apparently the bane of Geralt's existence was all that kept him from being trapped where he had no desire to ever return. Bitter irony that Jaskier had fallen for him despite knowing that his freedom was linked to Geralt wanting him gone deep down more than he wanted him to stay – if Jaskier ever got what his heart yearned for, he'd lose even more than Geralt's affections in the same breath.

In that sense, Geralt's words on top of that mountain were a blessing, for all that Jaskier did not at all agree with being blamed for things that were in no way his fault. And that he actually had advised Geralt consistently to leave alone and not do. For someone who had held someone else's fate in his hands for almost all of the years he had walked this earth, Geralt was surprisingly scared of destiny and way too concerned with running from it in vain.

Jaskier could and actually had sung several songs about how escaping destiny was impossible – her cruel claws would sink into you one way or another, running from it was nothing but a waste of breath.

Once upon a time Jaskier had thought he had escaped her, had won his freedom against all odds. He was sure she was still getting a good laugh at his expense to this day whenever she could be bothered to check in on him.

“Jaskier?“

The low raspy voice startled him more than it by all rights should have – he had been waiting by its owner's horse just waiting for his return after all.

“Geralt!“ He almost slipped on the straw covering the ground of Roach's box in his haste to turn around. „What a surprise to see you here! Well, not really, I venture, since this is your horse and I know how fond you are of her and that you would never leave without collecting poor Roach here-“

Geralt scoffed at him. “You're rambling.“ He hesitated for a moment, golden eyes searching Jaskier's face with an intensity that made him shift his weight from foot to foot, fingers tangling in Roach's mane. “I am... surprised that you are here. What I said to you-“

„Oh, ha, that, let's not talk about that! Forgiven and forgotten, no harm no foul my friend!“ Was he speaking loudly enough to mask the erratic racing of his heart? Or would the sound of the shards of his heart being stomped into dust by his own boots drown out either? “I prepared Roach, we can leave right now, unless you need a break – we can of course get a room at the inn for another night, time is not running out on us, eh?“

Geralt's forehead was scrunched up in confusion, his eyebrows almost meeting in the middle, his mouth a taut line. „Jaskier, if you could just let me-“

„Now we all know how little fondness you hold for the power of words despite your many years of traveling with a master poet such as myself, let's not make you struggle with them needlessly! I am sure you were just caught up in the heat of the moment and chose rather poorly, but what kind of loyal travel companion would I be if I couldn't forgive such a minor slight without need for an elaborate apology! Would you like to leave now o-“

„You smell of misery,“ Geralt said, cutting off the endless stream of meaningless nothings falling from Jaskier's mouth as swiftly and easily as he cut the heads off of the monsters he hunted. He took a step forward and Jaskier tried his hardest not to stumble back into Roach in a desperate scramble. „And your heart is racing like a cornered rabbit's.“ Geralt's mouth turned down almost imperceptibly, Jaskier's eyes following the movement in deeply ingrained habit. „So tell me, why is your body contradicting your words then?“

„What?“ Jaskier laughed, the sound jarring and fake even to his own ears, artificial and hollow. Unfortunately, he had never managed the fine art of acting very well outside of a stage and pre-written lines, despite the many years he had had to practice. “I have no idea what you are talking about, Geralt! I'm just eager to leave this place behind, doesn't hold many good memories, now, does it? So if it is all the same to you I would like to set out as soon as you have gathered your-“

„Why.“ Geralt's voice didn't rise or lift, but that one word was followed by silence all the same. „All the times you have accused me of not using my words enough. That you have asked to hear my opinion on the most inconsequential things. Why is it that you won't let me speak them now?“

„Now, my dear friend, don't be ridiculous. You're of course always free to voice your thoughts, I would never dream of stopping you, mind you, not that I could if I did try! However, it seems like an unnecessary expenditure of energy seeing that I-“

“Seeing that you obviously want to hear them?“ Geralt's gaze held Jaskier in place, never once straying from Jaskier's own eyes, lines of concern still etched into his forehead, almost obscured by stray strands of hair. Jaskier's fingers were itching to brush them back to where they had escaped. He tightened them on the strands of Roach's mane instead, clutching them like a lifeline, swallowing hard.

„I am sorry. I should not have placed the blame at your feet. I was angry, but not at you, and my treatment of you was not fair.“ Finally, Geralt's unrelenting gaze faltered, eyes flickering to the corner of the stable, releasing Jaskier from its spell. „You should know, since I would not have let you travel at my side otherwise, that I don't truly wish for you to be taken off my hands-“

“What a beautiful apology! Now that that's all over with, and thanks for that again, I do think I forgot my... lute in my rooms, oh dear, I should be getting her since we're about to leave, would not want to hold us up!“ Jaskier all but ran past Geralt,is lute case bumping against his back almost painfully, gulping down the fresh air beyond the stable confines like a drowning man after breaking the surface at last.

Bitter, bitter irony that for all that he wanted nothing more than to hang onto Geralt's every word, to have him grovel and beg for forgiveness until Jaskier would so graciously bestow it upon him at long last – he couldn't. It was too great a risk, for all that Jaskier had taken stupid risks with Geralt from the second their paths had crossed again in Posada.

_70 years earlier_

_Jaskier listlessly brushed his fingers through the branches of his prison, the leaves rustling a soothing song back in gratitude. He bit his lip and let his hand fall back to his side. It was not the tree's fault – it had never given him anything but gratitude for his care. And yet, if it was up to Jaskier, there was nothing he wished for more in this world than to never have to look at the sky through its strong branches ever again._

_Unfortunately, nature would not have it so. And his own parents even less. After what had happened to his sister, the same fate that so many of their kind had shared in the past and would in the future..._

„ _You cannot take from the forest what was never meant to leave.“_

_Only Jaskier did not belong to the forest. He may have been born in it, but that was far from the same. His soul did not yearn to be one with nature, to be part of his tree as long as it would persist in this world that the humans kept encroaching on ever further, slowly but surely. His devotion was not to the health of its every single leaf, his feet were not tangled in the roots beneath its strong trunk._

_And quite honestly, trees and the occasional mammal were a less than thrilling audience that was a waste of his talents._

_Jaskier's greatest joy in life were passing humans, lured in by the clear notes of his songs, his voice echoing through the forest to their camps. The way they would hang onto every word leaving his lips, the stories they would share upon his eager probing, of cities and settlements, of song and dance so different from all he had known._

_They had taught him what he wanted to be, what his soul whispered to him at night was his destiny. A_ bard. _A traveling musician, historian, artist! Traversing the vast world, sharing his voice, his songs, free and unbound. Not stuck in the same tree in the same forest with the same few family members he even got to see. Monotony only broken oh so rarely by chance in the form of strangers who had wandered too far into the woods by mistake._

_But ever since Rosanna had met her unfortunate fate, that seemed to be what he was doomed to endure. Twice since Jaskier had managed to charm his lovely strangers into accepting him as a traveling companion. But no sooner had his feet touched the ground outside of the bounds of their little kingdom, his parents were already on him, bedazzling his dear humans and all but dragging him back to his tree by the tips of his ears,_

_Eyes were on him at all times, his parents' little spies, the squirrels, the mice, even his beloved birds, the traitors. Jaskier didn't cherish the fear on his mother's face, the blank confusion on his father's, their terror that he was capable of leaving the forest without returning to the earth immediately._

_Jaskier knew why. This had never been his fate, not where he belonged. He didn't_ want _to stay, so the forest,in exchange for the care he had shown it, would not hold him against his will._

_His family, though, they could not comprehend his quest for freedom. No other wanted to leave behind their bond with nature, wanted to sever the bond with the tree they had been born to. All they had ever witnessed was humans, stumbling over the beauty his kind liked to wrap themselves in, lured by their sweet songs and voices. All they had ever seen was those few humans that would not get bored eventually and pass on, returning overcome by the need to possess what was not theirs to have, bringing destruction and taking their children and siblings and loved ones beyond the bounds against their will._

_And the forest had answered the pleas of its own and taken back what had been wrongfully stolen in the only way it still could._

_When nothing of the sort had happened to Jaskier, when he had tried to show them, to explain, that no one had forced him, that he was leaving of his own volition and with the blessing of their sacred trees, no one would listen._

_In their desperate fear, his parents had done the one thing they were convinced would save him – binding their son to his tree by their own magic, so that none may be able to take him from the forest, not even Jaskier himself. Not that he wanted to leave without a companion – he enjoyed the company of humans (those not driven by greed to bring down what they claimed to love). He had learned enough to know that he would not easily be able to navigate their world on his own, with how different they were._

_Binding magic required specifications, however. An unconditional binding it had not been – Jaskier almost wished it had been, if only to stifle the glimmer of improbable hope in his chest._

_Jaskier would be able to leave this forest unstopped: If someone not of the forest would only truly wish for him to stay and not leave its confines._

_At first he had thought that such would be an easy feat, that he could surely charm another stranger with little effort into wishing such a thing. He might have to leave on his own in that case, but that was still better than being confined to his larch for all of his long life._

_Unfortunately it turned out that Jaskier's usual tactic of charming his way out of a situation would be of no help in this case - the more he tried to wrap his interlocutors around his finger, the more enamoured they became with him and the less they wished for him to stay and not accompany them. If he did not interact with them further, they would stay neutral, uncaring if he stayed or left._

_He had tried to enrage the humans, make them angry. But all making himself a nuisance ever achieved was that the humans would leave – not wishing for him to stay, just wishing to not see him again. And so Jaskier stayed bound, year after year, through the change of the seasons._

_His only solace was the lute he had retained from his last attempt to leave behind his bark-covered chains. The poor dear had been in no state to demand it back as Jaskier had been dragged through the forest, and he had held onto it for dear life all throughout his parents uttering the enchantment spelling the end of all his dreams._

_Since his beautiful lute was to be the only thing that would stay with him for good other than his tree, Jaskier had learned to make her sing for him. Some things he had been able to glean from his would-be companion in their brief but quite pleasurable time together, most he had taught himself through trial and error. He knew enough to recognize that such a fine instrument needed special care that he had no possibility of giving with his limited options. He tried his best, but nevertheless the only thing holding his lute together by now was his own magic and it was showing, the quality of her ringing notes growing poorer with each cycle of seasons despite his best efforts._

_Abruptly, Jaskier was ripped from his maudlin contemplation of his own doomed and bleak existence by something large and quite monstrous crashing through the clearing in front of his larch. It stopped briefly to take in its surroundings, its grotesque maw turning in his direction. Its large red eyes narrowed, the... things around its maw snapping. Jaskier blinked at it and it turned back and continued on its destructive path._

_While it was an interesting change of pace, Jaskier was hardly surprised by this encounter. Mostly their little forest kingdom was peaceful and serene, but occasionally a beast would pass through. None of them ever tried to harm the faeries in the trees though – to predators like them they were no more interesting than the tree itself, too entwined were they._

_The being following onto the clearing not too long after the beast, however, was a very different story._

_At first Jaskier thought it was an errant human. But he had never seen a human move like this creature, shaped like the finest of them as it was. White hair tumbled into golden eyes with pupils slit like a wild cat's, the early morning sun glinting off of mighty swords and knives and bottles of potions. The stranger was tall and muscled and yet moved as quietly in his clunky boots and heavy armor as Jaskier would tread barefoot in nothing but a flowing robe over the moss of his clearing. There was a grace to this creature's movements, unlike that of his fellow faeries, but certainly nothing like Jasker had ever seen any human display._

_His surprise guest seemed to sniff the air, golden eyes finally lifting from the underbrush on the other side of the clearing clearly displaying the beast's path in broken branches and torn leaves. They came to rest on Jaskier, a frown marring the white-adorned forehead._

„ _You should not be here,“ the creature said, voice low and gravelly. Words and tone both far from polite, but not unkind. So different from any of his previous strangers, they were all so polite and curious, at least at first, usually drawn by his song and voice, not by unusual beasts roaming these quiet forests. How delightful and exciting!_

„ _On the contrary,“ Jaskier said, slowly sitting up with every ounce of conscious grace he had ever been able to muster, sending the stranger a coy grin. „One could argue that finding one such as myself here is much more likely than 'tis to find one such as you.“ He gestured at the beast's obvious path. „Or one such as this, come to think of it. What is it?“_

“ _Kikimore,“ grunted his guest, not seeming in the least moved by Jaskier's charm. „Chased it out of the tunnels it started to dig near the closest village. Came out near here.“_

_Jaskier smiled some more, clapping his hands. „How interesting! You are hunting it?“_

_The stranger lifted an equally white eyebrow but spoke not a word. Jaskier's smile faltered slightly but he caught himself before his countenance too could crumble into a frown._

„ _Well, since you are not terribly polite yourself and I am quite curious, may I ask what you are then? For all that your appearance matches them for the most part, there is something not quite human about you that I've never seen the likes of.“_

„ _Witcher,“ was the stranger's forthcoming answer. His gaze briefly moved to the tips of Jaskier's ears, then down to meet Jaskier's – many a human lover had complimented his eyes, marveled at how they were of a color no human eye could ever be. „Fae?“_

„ _I believe the humans call us willow maids“ Jaskier widened his smile until he could feel his lips pull back over his teeth – much like his ears quite more pointy than a human's. „Terribly incorrect, if you ask me. For one, I am not a maiden fair, and for another-“_

„ _This is a larch.“ The witcher's lips twitched up at the corners ever so slightly._

„ _Indeed!“ Jaskier grinned back at him, leaning forward as much as the invisible bindings tying him to his tree would let him. „So do tell, oh beautiful Witcher, may I help you with anything?“ He glanced up at the hunter through his lashes, a strategy that had never failed him before._

_The witcher's gaze moved back to the beast's path, posture as rigid and alert as it had been from the first. „The kikimore will try to find the closest tunnel big enough to contain it, they don't enjoy sunlight. Or woods. Any idea where it would have gone?“_

_Jaskier sighed. Well, even those well-versed in the art of seduction were bound to meet with failure occasionally. „Try this way.“ He pointed to the west of the destroyed brushes. „Bear caves in that direction, could be a good entry point for a beast such as that.“ The witcher didn't immediately run off after his prey, so Jaskier decided to try his luck one last time. „You could return here once you have slayed your prey?“ He batted his eyelashes, patting the ground at his side in invitation. „I would be more than happy to offer you a reward for your triumph.“_

_The witcher snorted but did at least do him the courtesy of looking back at him once more. „I will have to pass on that, your kind are too silver-tongued for my taste. Thank you for the information.“_

_He stopped one last time before he disappeared into the tree line, about to leave Jaskier's sight for good. That golden gaze fixed him in place. „Stay here. It's not safe where I'm going, not even for curious faeries.“_

_The witcher was gone before Jaskier had rearranged his legs enough to try and stumble after him. He stood in the middle of the clearing, dumbfounded by what had just transpired between them, for long minutes. The chirping of a bird in the distance broke him out of his trance long enough to cross the final distance to the ruined plant life through which the witcher had disappeared, staring forlornly into the distant shadows of the trees._

_A truly embarrassing amount of time passed before Jaskier realized:_ He had crossed the clearing! _With a sharp inhale he twisted around to glance back at his larch. It had been years since he had been free to move this far from the bark at his back. He rolled his shoulders back – the weight of the bindings holding him, nothing but memory, a phantom lingering to remind him of his cage._

_A rapid heartbeat. Another. His feet had carried him back across the clearing ere he knew it, no room for thought as he grabbed his lute and swiftly crossed back to the other end. Nothing moved to stop him – save in the knowledge of their binding and how impossible it would be to break, his parents had long since stopped keeping a close eye on Jaskier._

_An anxious breath lodging in his throat, Jaskier stepped over the bushes, opposite from where the kikimore and the witcher had gone. Rough underbrush unlike the soft moss of his clearing greeted his feet, tears of relief running down his cheeks before he could stop them. Another deep breath and he started his path back in the direction the witcher had come from._ He said he had come from the closest village.

_The tears ran faster still when he finally stepped out into the fading sunlight beyond the thicket of the forest of his birth, onto the packed ground of the paths the humans traveled. He hurried down the road, putting as much distance between himself and his cage as he could, as fast as his legs would carry him._

_Never once had he gotten as far, he was truly beyond their grasp now. His bindings shattered by the honest concern of a golden-eyed witcher with hair as white as snow, his parents unable to reach him and drag him back to bind him anew._

_Jaskier had to briefly pause his journey to sit down on the side of the road as the thought really sunk in, sobbing out his relief. He knew he had to leave before he could cross paths with the witcher again – if the hunter took pity on him, if he started wishing Jaskier at his side and not “safe“ back in the forest... The bindings might not be broken for good, they might snap back into place. Jaskier had never heard of such a spell with such conditions cast on anyone else, he didn't know how much sway it would still hold over him, if a change of mind in his savior might mean the end of his freedom._

_He owed the witcher a life debt for his freedom – devotion was the way of those born to care for the forest, even if they yearned to leave it. Jaskier was sure destiny would have their paths cross again at some point, much as it gave him this chance to flee his chains and follow the calling of his soul. For now, he needed to run, and run far, the memory of his cage too fresh to take the chance._

_Loud rattling and an odd rhythmic stomping sound managed to pierce through his undignified heaving sobs, a gentle hand landing on his shoulder and a gentle voice trying to soothe him following not long after. Blinking through his endless tears, Jaskier looked up at the human comforting him so. Her face was carved in lines like the bark of the old oak trees, her hair almost as white as the witcher's. Briefly, she looked taken aback by his eyes, taking in his ears a moment later._

„ _Oh poor dear. Would you like a warm bath and some hot soup? Good for hurt souls.“ Jaskier nodded silently, his voice still blocked by the weight of tears tightening his throat. Clutching his lute tighter to his chest, he stumbled to his feet to follow the woman to a contraption that had to be one of the carts his strangers had described to him. Carefully, he reached out to touch the creature pulling it – a hose? A hore? He could not remember the name at the moment. It reminded him of a very big deer with an odd head. It seemed friendly enough when it blew its hot breath into his hair._

_The human had already climbed atop her cart, holding a hand out to him with a kind smile lacking many teeth. „Trade you a night of peace for a song?“ Jaskier nodded once more, returning the smile and accepting the hand as he climbed up beside her._

_Every time he looked back at the forest, growing smaller and smaller as they veered away from its rustling leaves and towards the village, his heart grew a little lighter._


End file.
